


Love is Big Enough

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: This love, there's enough of it to go around.
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett, Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett, Lindsey Horan/Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Love is Big Enough

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _So’hara or Soran- *Sonnett falls asleep on the couch* (I know it’s not dialogue, I hope that’s okay!)_

“How is she?” Kelley asks when Lindsey finally picks up her call, hating the slightly frantic sound of her voice but not bothering to hide it. Thankfully the other woman doesn’t call her out on it. Lindsey sounds as steady as ever as she details what had been going on since the end of the Portland match just over an hour ago.

“Getting checked out now,” Lindsey relays from where she’s standing in the ER waiting room, trying to catch sight of the nurse who’d taken Emily back into one of the curtained-off exam rooms. “But I’m pretty sure that she’s got a concussion. I don’t know who I want to yell at more—Sheridan? The trainer who let her back on the field? Or that blockhead for talking herself out of a concussion test.”

But there’s no real ire in her voice, because she knows—and Kelley knows—that in Emily’s position? They would have done the same exact thing.

Kelley sighs in understanding, feeling so far away from her girls. “Did they check her post-game?” And she hears the hesitation from Lindsey. “Linds?”

This time it’s Lindsey who sighs deeply. “She avoided them. I thought—I thought she was okay until she threw up in the car on the ride home.” And Kelley can hear the regret, the anger that the brunette is trying to swallow down.

“Listen, Horan,” her voice is serious, “she’s going to be fine. We’re going to yell at her for being so stupid. And you’re going to forgive yourself for not knowing that she was being an idiot, okay?”

On the other end of the line, all the way up in Portland, Lindsey grins a little, and rubs her face, feeling tired. “I see her nurse, I’m going to harass her until she gives me some information. But I’ll call you later with an update?” Her voice lifts a little as she thought of the late-night calls they sometimes shared. Soft and sweet and full of all the things the three of them couldn’t say to each other in the daylight.

“I might be asleep by then,” Kelley says after the briefest of pauses, “but just leave the details and I’ll call you both in the morning?” Lindsey’s too distracted to wonder at it, at Kelley not staying up to wait for more info, and just whispers a soft “Love you,” and then ends the call, slipping the phone into her back pocket before boldly pushing open the swinging doors with the “Authorized Personnel Only” warning in large red letters.

—

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this without a lecture,” Lindsey whispers into Emily’s hair where it’s splayed across her shoulder, the blonde resting against her on the gurney as they wait for a nurse to come in and check on her again. Or, better yet, to discharge her. “Kelley’s pissed.” She doesn’t bother to add her own feelings, sometimes it’s nice to be the youngest one between the three of them. Kelley’s more than capable of giving Emily a hard time for putting her health and her career at risk. Plus, Lindsey can already feel the woman’s regret, her apology, in the way the blonde’s fingers curl into the fabric of the soft fleecy sweatshirt she’s wearing.

Emily’s fingers go still on Lindsey’s shirt, and the younger woman feels rather than sees the way the blonde slowly, carefully raises her head. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” her voice is a little lower than usual, a little scratchier. And Lindsey doesn’t call her out on the partial truth there. There will be time enough later.

“It looked bad,” the tall woman whispers softly, well-aware that anything louder would bring back the pained look on Emily’s face, the crease over her brow. “You took two fists to the face and kind of crumpled.” Lindsey strokes down the blonde’s arm, the familiar fabric of her own flannel shirt, the one Emily had claimed for herself months ago now. “But it wasn’t for nothing,” she smiles, “I think you’re going to win this season’s ‘shiner of the year’ with that lovely full-face bruise you’ve got going on.” And earns a poke in the ribs from her girlfriend for the joke.

—

It’s past dawn when Lindsey unlocks the apartment door, tugging Emily in behind her, and blinks in surprise at the lights illuminating the open plan of the living room and kitchen. But it’s the voice that stops her in her tracks, causing Emily—eyes more closed than open and letting her girlfriend lead her—to bump into her from behind.

“About time you guys got home,” Kelley says from where she stands in the kitchen, hair pulled back into a loose, messy bun. She, too, is wearing a stolen flannel, the arms rolled up to just under her elbows. The sweatpants she’s wearing are leftover from an earlier visit, still stained with little flecks of paint from when they were in Salt Lake City painting the walls of her brand new condo. And her feet are bare, and it’s this—the absolute at-home aura of Kelley there in the kitchen, cleaning the oven to keep the worry at bay—that takes Lindsey’s breath away.

“Kel?” Emily’s voice wavers a bit as the older woman puts down what she was doing and wipes her hands before coming over to hug them both close. But Kelley doesn’t answer just yet. She hugs Lindsey tight before letting the taller woman go to stand before Emily, who seems to understand that there is something heavy in this moment for the older woman.

Kelley looks at the blonde, taking the whole of her in. From the dirty hair, dull with sweat from the game, to the vivid bruises slowly taking form over her face. Lindsey’s flannel shirt draped over her shoulders, the training shorts. All the way down to the pristine white socks and slides on her feet before lifting her eyes again to meet Emily’s blue irises. “You look like shit, Sonny,” she whispered, her hands coming up to gently cradle the younger woman’s face and give her a tender, delicate kiss.

And Emily slumps forward a little into her, sighing softly and just resting her forehead against Kelley for a moment. “Linds said you’re mad,” the words almost disappear in the quiet light of early morning, smothered by the soft fabric of Kelley's—of Lindsey's—shirt. But Kelley just strokes her back for a moment. “A little,” she admits, “but mostly I’m just glad you’re okay, and that you had the Great Horan to keep you in line at the hospital,” and her comment is rewarded by a snort from Lindsey, who’s returning from the kitchen, where she’d grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip before passing it to Emily.

Lindsey wraps her arms around Emily’s waist from behind, pressing her face against the shorter woman’s hair. “You didn’t tell me you were coming when we were on the phone,” she looks to Kelley, and it’s not a question, more of a curiosity. “I was waiting for my Lyft when I called,” the older woman looks back and forth between them. “I couldn’t sit at home,” the words are soft, and there’s so much more meaning in them than their face value would suggest, “not when I could be here and with you both.” She shrugs, trying for nonchalance, but fails completely.

None of them are good with expressing their feelings, with saying the words or hearing them. But they’re trying. They’re trying for each other, and so Lindsey reaches to brush a thumb over the older woman’s cheek and smiles at her, Emily safe between them. “You wanted to see for yourself that she was okay,” and Kelley nods, an expression something like relief crossing her features. They understand; finally, there are people who understand her love.

The moment is heavy and somehow also so, so light.

“What’s the damage?” Kelley looks up at Lindsey after a few quiet breaths, knowing that Emily will just brush the question off. And she ignores the way the blonde’s nose wrinkles, already over the drama of the day before. But Lindsey is ready with the answer.

“Concussion, obviously,” and they both ignore the little groan of pain from Emily, who has just discovered how much pain rolling her eyes caused with bruising that bad. They start to move toward the back of the apartment as Lindsey continues. “Moderate, but the doctor thought she probably made it worse by continuing to play. And she’s out for at least a month on protocol, but no fractures or bleeding. Not even a broken nose, so she really dodged a bullet there.” Emily is still scowling, but it’s actually a little cute, and Lindsey grins looking down at them both.

“You both need to shower,” Kelley stops them as they reach the bathroom, “and I need to finish in the kitchen. But after? I was thinking maybe we pop a movie in? Get all cuddled up on the couch? Make sure someone—” she looks at Emily with knowing eyes, “—stays out of trouble?” Emily lets out a soft sigh, but the way she relaxes against Kelley suggests that she’s amenable, at the very least, to the idea.

Lindsey steps back with a smile. “That’s a pretty good game plan,” she teases. “You should take up coaching.” Kelley snorts. “I’ve got my hands full with the two of you,” she kisses them both, sweet and chaste and soft, “that’s about all I can handle at the moment.”

And their laughter rings through the hall.

—

Kelley tries to be quiet as she slips into the apartment, arms laden with bags, but when she puts them down on the counter and looks across the breakfast bar toward the living room, she sees a dark head watching her with a smile. “Sorry,” she whispers, and comes around to sit carefully on the glass coffee table. They’d tried a movie, settling into the couch together for a quiet, lazy few hours, with Lindsey laying against the back of the couch, big spoon to Emily’s littler one as Kelley sat with their feet in her lap, massaging out the aches and kinks of the previous night’s match.

It had been gentle, and quiet, and Kelley had soaked in the feelings as she eschewed the movie to watch their faces, the rise and fall of their chests. Emily hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, and Lindsey, though she’d put up a bit of a fight, blinking hard to clear the exhaustion from her eyes, had followed relatively soon after. Just as Kelley had hoped—they had looked so tired when they’d come in. And she’d sat for a long time, just watching them, until she’d been shaken out of her trance by the music of the credits.

Now, she sits across from them, seeing how Emily has shifted, and curled into their partner. Seeing how carefully Lindsey holds her, as if she was afraid the blonde would roll away, fall, if she let go. And Kelley’s heart swells, expands as she feels the love in her heart, double, triple, quadruple, just looking at them. “I ran out for food,” she smiles, reaching forward to brush some hair from Lindsey’s eyes. “You both were sleeping pretty hard, I didn’t want to wake you to tell you I was going out.”

“Sorry,” Lindsey whispers, and untangles herself just a little from the woman sleeping against her. “I didn’t mean to doze off.” But Kelley shakes her head. “Don’t apologize,” she says, “you needed it. You both did.” And their eyes both drift down to the light head pressed against Lindsey’s chest. “I forget how she sleeps—when I’m away, I mean,” the older woman leans forward to press a gentle kiss first to Emily’s hair, and then to Lindsey’s forehead before continuing. “Like the dead, holding on for dear life.” She chuckles a little, “And I miss it, I miss both of you when I’m alone in Utah.”

The younger woman looks for a moment like she wants to apologize for that too, like there’s something she can say to make it better, to make up for the fact that she always has Emily, and most of the time Kelley doesn’t have either of them, but Kelley presses a gentle finger to her lips. “It’s how I knew I was in love with you both,” she smiles, and reaches for a soft, warm blanket to spread over the two women, careful not to disturb the sleeping blonde as she tucks them in on the couch. “No,” she continues when Lindsey looks like she’s going to say something, follow with a declaration of her own, “not now. I told you so you’d know, not so you’d say it back.”

Kelley stands and leans over the couch. Her hands are gentle, tousling Lindsey’s hair, undoing the ponytail there to let the dark hair fall over the pillow she’d slipped under their heads before leaving earlier. “You need more sleep,” she whispers, already seeing those deep-feeling eyes droop a little, “you both do.” And she kissed her brow again, even more gently this time, with a hand stroking over Emily’s back.

It doesn’t take long before Lindsey is asleep again, and for a few moments, Kelley just stands there, watching over the two women she loves. There’s lunch to make, and calls to return, and at some point one of them will have to take Lindsey’s car in to get cleaned. But right now, in this hour, there are two beautiful girls asleep on a couch before her, cuddled into each other, two halves of one whole.

And Kelley knows all the things that have to be done.

But she knows this too—everything will wait.

This, this kind of perfect, deserves a moment all its own.

**Author's Note:**

> "Love is Big Enough," Holley Maher


End file.
